A Dance with Lions of Winter
by SuperTechmarine
Summary: Eddard lives quietly in the North, with his wife Cersei and their children. When a raven from King's Landing arrives, announcing the death of Jon Arryn, King Robert travels North with his Queen Lyanna to make his best friend his Hand. Their actions will tear the realm asunder in the bloodiest conflict since the Dance of Dragons. AU. Cersei/Ned, Robert/Lyanna.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

Eddard Stark rode into the throne room while his men flooded the hall, he looked up to see Jaime Lannister sitting on the Iron Throne, his gaze wandered down onto the corpse of Mad King Aerys, his long unshaved beard caked by his own blood.

He stared at the new 'Kingslayer'. His golden sword was across his knees, the Mad King's blood on it's edge. Their eyes met each other...until he took off his helm and laughed:

"Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It's not a very comfortable seat i'm afraid."

Ned Stark glared at him while he climbed down the steps of the Iron Throne, until he finally reached the floor. Ned had to resist the urge to run him through with Ice.

"Oh, don't look at me like that Stark, it's hard enough having one Lord hate you." said Jaime Lannister, grinning, while walking away from the hall, he turned back around at the doors and shouted "Send my regards to our good King Robert!"_ I wouldn't be so sure about that_, thought Ned, _you honorless craven._

Lord Stark looked around the hall, his Northmen were flooding the hall, pushing back the Lannister men, his gaze turned to the dragon skulls hanging from the walls. He walked towards the Iron Throne, towards the Mad King's corpse, his eyes were dazed, his throat cut, his long finger nails reaching out for the throne. He looked up at the monstrous iron chair, _If i climb it and sit on it i could be king_... he thought, ..._No, i have no right to it, Robert shall be king, and Lyanna..._

Howland Reed and Martyn Cassel walked up beside him, they chanced a glance at the corpse slumped beneath the throne, they both gasped, "Who killed him?" asked Martyn. "His Kingsguard, it seems, Jaime Lannister, he was the only one here." answered Howland. "What do we do now?" he continued.

"We wait for Robert, and try to stop this madness of a sack." replied Ned. He turned around just in time to see Robert riding down the throne room, he dismounted and walked towards them, "What's going on Ned?" he asked, "Tywin Lannister's sacking the city, said he'd secure my throne and prove his loyalty." Laughing, Robert glanced at the corpse beneath him, "it seems i was too late." He looked neither shocked nor pleased, his vengeance robbed from him yet fulfilled by another.

He climbed the steps and sat on the Iron Throne. "It's good to be the King." He heard the doors fling open, Tywin and Kevan Lannister were walking down the hall, Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch were carrying conspicuous crimson bags, until he realized they were corpses. They walked past him and dropped the bodies in front of the throne, The Lannister bending the knee to Robert. "Your Grace," they said, sullen looks on their faces. "Gods!" gasped Ned, "The boy, his face..." It was a bloodied ruin, brains spilling out from his skull, "children," he glared at Lord Tywin; "You murdered children..." he was horrified beyond words, "Robert you cannot let this stand!". "Why not?" shouted Robert, "I see no children, only dragonspawn!"

Lord Stark glanced at Robert and at Tywin Lannister. _Cunning_, he thought, _do the dirty work yourself and earn Robert's gratitude, honorless scum. _"I see," he muttered through grit teeth, it would be no good, arguing now, Robert would scream and shout until his voice was hoarse, whether it was Ned or Jon who told him that this was murder, Robert would say it was justice, Lord Stark called his own bannermen and made to walk out when Robert shouted, "Ned! Bring me back Lyanna!" how he could jump from one subject to the next baffled Ned, "Yes...Your Grace."

* * *

He rode into the Red Keep, Lyanna at his side. A sad expression on her beautiful face, her grey eyes full of pain "Make sure he's safe, Ned. From Robert. Promise me, Ned." she said, "I promise, Lya. I'll keep him safe." he had already sent off his 'bastard son' to Winterfell with an escort of twenty men, and his wet nurse, Wylla.

The rode up to the gates, the guards opened them, the Stark sibling dismounted and walked into the throne room to find Ser Jaime Lannister guarding the Iron Throne, he was surprised that he was even here, _Robert should have sent him to the Wall for his treachery_, thought Ned. Though he was surprised by Robert's absence when Jon appeared. "Ned, Lady Lyanna" he bowed to his sister, "Robert will want to see you" he said to Lyanna, the look on her face as if to say_ "But what makes you think i want to see him?"_ Jon however turned to him, "Ned, we must talk, come with me." He he looked over his shoulder to see Ser Jaime escort Lyanna to the Council Chambers.

He followed Jon to his solar in the Tower of the Hand when the new-made Hand of the King asked "So how did it go?"

"As well as can be expected." answered Ned.

"Ned, I don't quite know how to tell you this, but...your wife, Catelyn Tully, is dead." That took Ned aback, "How?" he asked.

"Giving birth, to a son who died from illness a fortnight later." said Jon, as he was sitting in the chair behind his desk, it shocked Ned, Catelyn had seemed rather robust for a woman of her age. Though the death of his son shocked him more.

"I am lost for words." he said, sadly. "I suppose i must marry someone else then?"

"That's exactly why you are here, in fact, i already have a bride in mind for you." replied Jon, "Cersei Lannister."

_Lannister_, Ned thought, the corpses of the Targaryen children flashed before him. "Absolutely not."

"I'm afraid you have no choice, she's the only eligible bride in the Seven Kingdoms at this moment," insisted Jon "Robert will marry Lyanna, tying House Stark to the Iron Throne, you will secure the Rock and House Lannister by marrying Lord Tywin's daughter."

"I don't think Lord Tywin will want his prized daughter to marry anyone other than the King."

"But you're the King's best friend and hold vast lands to the North, Winterfell and the Wardenship of the North. His ambition will cooled enough by this gift at least. And besides, the King is promised to another."

Ned, sat down at the chair opposite from Jon. He thought deeply, "She's the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms if that helps ease your mind." helped Jon. "It'd be dangerous to deny it, Ned. Lord Tywin might think that you feel that she's not good enough for you."

_How arrogant_, thought Ned,"Have you talked to Lord Tywin about this?"

"Yes, a fortnight past when we heard you saved Lyanna from the...Tower of Joy?"

"That's what Rhaegar called it. So what did he say?"

"He accepted."

Ned weighed his choices carefully, when he finally said "Fine then, i'll marry his daughter."

"I'm glad, we'll make Robert's reign one to sing of."

* * *

And so it was that Eddard Stark cloaked Cersei Lannister with his Stark cape while Robert did the same to Lyanna beside him in the Great Sept of Baelor. The most lavish festivity in the history of the Seven Kingdoms to hear some say it.


	2. Gerold I

** Gerold**

* * *

It was a cold grey summer morning when Ice struck down the deserter's neck.

Gerold could not take his eyes off the reddening snow, as blood from the man's severed neck flowed free, the ground drank it greedily. A hand on his shoulder startled him a bit, he looked over his shoulder to his half-brother Jon. "You did well, Father will be proud." he said, solemnly.

Jon was a youth of fourteen years, an old hand at justice who had seen countless executions, dark haired and grey eyed like his father, unlike Gerold who was golden haired flecked with black with a long face and grey eyes, everyone told him he was handsome, so he supposed it must be true.

The man's head bounced off a root to stop at Theon's feet, who put his foot on it and kicked it away, laughing merrily. "Ass", muttered Jon through grit teeth.

The road back to Winterfell seemed shorter that the road to the block, Gerold rode a horse alongside his brothers, and Theon Greyjoy.

"The deserter died bravely." said his brother Brandon, a strong, tall handsome youth, who shared his features with Gerold. They were both strong and muscled, where Jon was slender and graceful. "He had courage, at the least" continued Brandon.

"No," Jon Snow said calmly, "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear you could see in his eyes, Stark."

"The Others take his eyes" replied Brandon with a half-smile. "He died well, race you to the bridge?"

"Done" answered Jon, kicking his horse forward into a gallop, Brandon and Theon followed as quickly as they could, laughing and shouting.

Gerold did not attempt to follow, he tried to remember the man's eyes. After a while, the sound of Brandon and Theon's voice receded into silence.

So deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice his Father's coming up beside him, dark hair and grey eyes, he was as tall as Gerold. "Are you well, Gerold?" He asked with a concerned voice, though his face betrayed no emotion. 'The Lord's face', his mother called it.

"Yes, Father" Gerold told him, looking over his shoulder at his Father, "Brandon said the man died bravely, though Jon says he was afraid."

"What do you think?" asked his Father.

"Can a man be brave when he's afraid ?" asked Gerold.

"That's the only time a man can be brave." he told him. "Do you understand why i had to do it?"

"He was a deserter, from the Night's Watch, Jon told me." answered Gerold.

"Yes, but do you know why I had to do it?" asked his father.

"We keep to the old way." he replied. His father nodded.

Jon made a timely appearance, shouting "Father, Gerold, come quickly, see what Brandon's found!"

Jory appeared beside Father, "Trouble my lord?"

"Beyond a doubt." He replied, "Come, let us see what mischief my sons had rooted out now". They sped up their pace and found Brandon on the northern riverbank near a bridge. He was kneeling knee-deep in a mass of white, his hood was down, the sunlight shining off his golden hair. He was cradling something in his arms, while the men around him spoke in hushed, excited voices.

Jory Cassel was the first to arrive, "Gods!", he breathed, "Brandon, get away from that thing!" he exclaimed while his horse reared restlessly under him.

"Don't worry Jory," replied a Brandon, grinning. "The dead can't hurt you."

They all dismounted by then, "What in seven hells is that thing ?" Greyjoy asked loudly.

"A wolf" replied Brandon.

"A freak" countered Theon. "Look at the size of it ! "

Gerold's heart was thumping in his chest as he walked beside his brother. Half-buried in bloody snow, a huge dark shape was lying dead, ice in it's shaggy white fur, smelling of death. Gerold witnessed maggots and worms crawling in it's eyes, eating away at the flesh. But it was the sheer size of it that made him gasp, it was nearly as big as his horse.

"It's no freak," Jon said calmly."That's a direwolf, they grow larger than the other kind."

"There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years" Replied Greyjoy.

"I see one now." countered Snow.

Gerold looked away from the wolf's body and he then noticed the bundle in Brandon's arms. Gerold moved closer. The pup was a tiny ball of grey-black fur, it's eyes still closed. It nuzzled blindly against Brandon's chest looking for milk, Gerold reach out for it and Brandon's gave the pup to him. Gerold gave it a quick nervous stroke, then turned as Jon said, "Here you go". His half-brother put a second pup in his arms. "There are four of them". Gerold hugged the pups closely, the fur warm and fuzzy on his face.

"Direwolves loose in the realm after so many years" Muttered Hullen, the master of horse. « I like it not »

"It's a sign," Jory said.

Father frowned. "It's just a dead animal, Jory." he said his usual icy tone. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his boots as he walked around the body. "Do we know what killed her ?"

"Something in it's throat, there just under the jaw." Said Brandon, his grey eyes gleaming with pride at having found the answer before his father asked.

His father knelt beside the beast and lifted it's head with a hand. A foot of shattered antler was stuck in it's throat, covered in blood for all to see.

A sudden silence descended on all the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dare to speak. Gerold could smell their fear, though he did not fear a dead direwolf.

Father ripped the antler from the throat and tossed it away, all the while cleansing his hand with snow. "I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp," he said, breaking the silence.

"Maybe she didn't ," Jory said, "I've heard tales...maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came."

"Born with the dead, an auspicious start i suppose, like you Gerold, save for the dead part." japed Brandon. Gerold smiled, he knew the story about his birth, supposedly a storm had been raging outside when he and his sister Myrcella were born. The midwife had said it was an auspicious start. And soon the tale had spread.

"No matter," said Hullen. "They'll be dead soon enough too."

"No !" shouted Gerold.

"The sooner the better," Theon Greyjoy agreed, he drew his sword, an approached the pups, Gerold pushed him away.

"Get out of my way, Gerold." said Theon.

"Put away your sword Greyjoy." commanded Brandon, in an icy tone that sound eerily like Father's voice. "We'll keep these pups."

"You can't do that, boy." said Hullen, "It's a mercy to kill them now."

Father frowned with a furrowed brow. "Hullen speaks truly, son, better they die a swift death than from cold and starvation."

"No," resisted Brandon "Ser Rodrik's red bitch whelped again last week, it was a small litter, there will be milk enough."

"She'll rip them apart when try to nurse."

"Lord Stark, "Jon said, it was odd for him to call his father like that so formally. "There are four pups," he told Father, "two male, two female,"

"What of it Jon ?"

"You have four trueborn children," Jon explained "two sons and two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups."

Gerold saw his father's face change, and the other men exchanged glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. The count had only come right because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, Myrcella and Joanna, but not himself, the bastard, who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed should be given to all those in the North unlucky enough to be born on the wrong side of the sheets.

Their father understood as well. "You want no pup for yourself, Jon ?" He asked softly.

"I'm not a Stark." Jon replied.

Brandon intervened "I'll nurse him myself, i'll soak a towel with milk and give him suck from that."

Father looked over his sons and the pups thoughtfully, weighing his choices, when he finally said "Easier to say than do, i'll not have you wasting the servants' time with this, you'll feed them yourselves, train them yourselves, and gods help you if you mistreat them, these are not dogs, these are direwolves, understood ?"

"Yes, Father" said Gerold and Brandon.

Their father and the guards mounted up and began their way home when they heard a whimper, Jon turned around suddenly.

"What is it, Jon ?" asked the father wearily.

"Can't you hear it ?" answered Snow.

For a moment Jon disappeared under the bridge, and he returned soon after with a peculiar direwolf, it's fur was snow white and it's eyes blood red.

"An albino" noted Theon with wry amusement, "This one will die sooner than the others."

Jon glared at his father's ward with his piercing grey eyes "I don't think so Greyjoy," he said, "this one belongs to me."


	3. Cersei I

**Cersei**

* * *

Cersei entered the godswood when an overt feeling of natural, ancient power took her over. The smell of red leaves and spattered mud, the sight of white weirwood, staring blood-red eyes that watched her every movement, the heat of the hot springs.  
It had nearly overwhelmed her the first time she had come to Winterfell, fifteen years ago, freshly wed, at first she did not like the North, nor her lord husband, but she eventually came to love both, like she used to love her twin brother and former-lover Jaime. _Small good his love did me_, she thought, _Jaime was a fool. And i am not._

Though she knew she had no time to waste on old trivialities, of her old family in Casterly Rock. She found Ned at the foot of the heart tree, sitting on a rock, Ice was across his lap, running an oilcloth down it's blade, she had an odd fascination with the ancestral Valyrian Steel great sword of House Stark, it's ripples and sheer size. It was five feet long and wide as a man's hand.

She called softly "Ned." He he lifted his eyes to her own when she sat down at a rock beside him. "Cersei." he said, warmly and smiling that smile that was reserved for her and her alone. She smiled back "How are the children?" he continued. "In the kitchens, arguing over names for direwolves." She replied, though she did not trust the wolves with her children. Brandon, Gerold and his twin sister Myrcella, and the youngest Joanna. All had her golden hair, but their father's eyes. Eyes that could change from ice to fire and back again on a moment's notice.

"Brandon has already named his wolf Grey Wind," she said, glancing at the heart tree's watching eyes, weeping tears of blood (it was just red sap Ned insisted.) "Myrcella has named her's Lady, Gerold still can't find one," So many good ideas he said. "Joanna has named her's Nymeria for the Rhoynar queen of old." she continued.

"And Jon?" he asked. "Ghost,"she answered_ How wonderfully appropriate_. Though she bore no ill will against her husband's nephew since she had tricked Howland Reed into giving up the truth, Ned had been angry when he found out about her subterfuge, he was rarely angry.

"The man died well, i'll give him that." he said. "You say that of everyone, if a servant were to fall down the steps and break his neck you'd say that as well." she said, an amused smile on her lips. He chuckled at her jape.

"He's the fourth in a year, though." he informed her in a grim tone, his smile vanished; "If this goes on i'll have no choice but to call the banners and ride north to face this King-Beyond-The-Wall."

"Isn't that the Night's Watch's job?" she said, "if they can't protect their own Wall, maybe the task should go to someone else."

"Such as?" he replied "The Night's Watch is an ancient and proud order, they wouldn't take kindly to having their fights fought by others."

_ For all their pride as done them_."Very well." she said.

"You didn't just come here for the pleasure of my company surely?" he continued, _No, i'm here to kill you with my nagging_, she thought, she saw no way to soften the blow. "Jon Arryn is dead."

It was as good as if she slapped him, he looked shocked, his grief etched on his face.

"What killed him?" he groaned.

"He died in his sleep, of a fever that burned through. Supposedly." she answered softly.

"Supposedly," he said, "you don't believe it was natural?"

"No i do not, there are some who'd like to be Hand of the King, such as my father, and other ambitious men who seek to rise above their station." she replied, "Someone may have poisoned him to fulfill their goals." She knew very well that her husband was too trusting to see the worst of people. It fell to her to help her dear lord husband, Ned was so much like her Father, yet so different at the same time. "They'll be sorely disappointed though."

"Why would that be?" he asked.

"King Robert rides North for Winterfell." she answered. "Doubtless, he doesn't come here for just the pleasure of your company either." _He'll make you his Hand and we will rule the realm while your friend goes on hunting and fighting_, she thought.

He looked concerned and happy at the same time, his friend and his sister would come, but he came to make him his Hand and take him away to King's Landing. Gods knew Ned wanted to bury his head in the snow and never go back South. He'd decline the King's offer, so she'll have to convince him to take it.

"We should send word to my brother Benjen at the Wall. Doubtless he'd want to participate in the feast," he said, "And the feast, how many are in the a party?"

"I don't know," she replied,"It's the King and the Queen and half the court, the Kingsguard, the retainers, freeriders, servants, so it could be one hundred people or three hundred maybe."

"We'll need to start preparing soon then, and fast, i'll send Jory south with an honor guard to meet them at Moat Cailin," he said "Damn it, how will we feed them all? Damn him, damn my sister, damn their royal hides!"


	4. Eddard I

**Eddard**

* * *

The entire population of Winterfell was waiting quietly in the courtyard for the Royal Party, when a lone rider on a grey horse galloped past the gates and dismounted in front of the congregation. Only when the rider pulled down his hood did Eddard recognize his sister, Lyanna, a beautiful woman, dark hair and grey eyes and slender bodice. She jumped at him and hugged him fiercely.

When she let go another rider approached, a tall, muscled man, wearing a black cloak with the golden crowned stag sewn on it. He dismounted and pulled down his hood revealing the face of his dear old friend Robert; clean-shaven and handsome with a shock of black hair and blue eyes. He was taller than Ned by quite a margin, he walked towards him and embraced him in a bone-crushing hug, Ned's feet rose off the ground and then Robert let him go. Ned nearly fell.

So taken by his family reunion with his sister and good-brother that he didn't notice the two Kingsguard behind Robert, he recognized his not-so-dear good-brother Ser Jaime the Kingslayer and Ser Barristan Selmy.

"Ned, how good it is to see you again." said Lyanna and Robert in unison."Where's the rest of the party?" asked Eddard, "A few miles down the Kingsroad, we couldn't wait so we abandoned them and rode here as fast as possible." explained Lyanna, nearly breathless.

"Lady Stark," said Robert moving over to Cersei, he embraced her like a long-lost sister. He moved down the line shaking his son's hands and kissing his daughter's foreheads. "Walk with me Ned," ordered Robert, they moved down the courtyard, he looked over his shoulder to see Ser Jaime and Lyanna walk off with Cersei."Your Grace, Winterfell is yours." said Ned."Why are you always so formal? Are you like this in your wife's bedchamber too?" laughed Robert. Ned found it inappropriate to mention that he and Cersei shared the same bedchamber and that informality was the rule of the day in private.

"Not nearly as much, no. I trust you enjoyed your journey, Your Grace."

"Pah, bogs and forest and snow and snow and snow, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck, where are all your people, Ned?"

"Likely they were too shy to come out, Kings are a rare sight in the North."

"More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!" laughed Robert as they opened the door towards the Keep.

"Late summer snows are common enough, i hope they do not trouble you, they're usually mild."

"The Others take your mild snows. Lya said the same. You've got to come south and taste the summer before it flees, in Highgarden there are fields of golden roses that stretch as far as the eye can see, and fruits so ripe the explode in your mouth! I've even brought you some." he laughed merrily.

"No doubt, i'll enjoy them." It seems the years had not done anything to Robert, he was still as fit and strong as ever, while Eddard's legs ached slightly by the time they reached the top floor. "Here's your bedchamber".

"So eager to rid of yourself of me Ned? Pah, we'll talk when we're rested and the rest of the party gets here. Oh, one more thing Ned. Kneel."

Ned knelt humbly,"I would make you Hand of the King", Robert proclaimed, the offer did not surprise him, he knew that Robert would not make this long a trip for just his company, and Cersei said as much.

"This is a great honor, Your Grace."

"If i wanted to honor you, i'd let you bury your head in the snow and never disturb you again." said Robert.

"I will need time to consider this, Your Grace."

"Take all the time you want, old friend." said Robert "I'll leave you till the morrow."

Ned rose as Robert entered his quarters.

He moved to go back to his own solar, when he bumped into Lyanna in the corridors. "Dear brother, do look where you are going," she said in a playful tone, "How you've grown. That beard" she continued, scrubbing the stubble that covered his jaw.

"And you! I trust that your years as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms have been good to you?" he asked.

"Well, Robert surprised me, he keeps to my bed, and he doesn't drink as much as before our wedding." that shocked Ned, Robert not whoring is like a fish not swimming. "And your own marriage?" she asked.

"A lot better than expected." he replied. That was an understatement, a huge understatement, he knew.

"I see, i'm tired now though. I'll see you one the morrow, Ned." she said. And like that she went to her and Robert's bedchamber. He couldn't stop himself smiling.

* * *

**Author Notes: If the chapters seem too short it's because the story is only warming up at the time and i lack a beta reader to help me with my burden. Heh. So if you're a competent beta reader then please do step up.**

**A few changes.**

**1. Robert is not fat like in OTL, where he feasted and drank to bury his sorrow for Lyanna. Nor does he engage in spousal and domestic abuse.**

**2. I made Ned an expert swordsman on the level of Ser Jaime for plot purposes.**

**The next 3 chapters will be the same events told from different PoV. Hopefully they will be a lot longer. I plan to introduce a Jaime PoV in the next chapters too.**


	5. Jaime I

**Jaime**

* * *

The feast was well underway by the time Jaime joined in. The King and the Queen along with the entire Stark-Baratheon family were seated at the high place of honor at the end of the Great Hall on the elevated dais. King Robert was proposing another toast while Queen Lyanna was talking intently with her brother Eddard Stark and Cersei Lannister._ Stark now, _they were laughing at japes and memories while Jaime Lannister drank his sorrows away in a dark corner of the hall.

The children were present as well, at a lower table, Brandon Stark, Gerold Stark, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy were drinking and talking intently with Steffon Baratheon and his brother Edric Baratheon. Both equally handsome, with coal-black hair and blue eyes. On the other side, Myrcella Stark and Cassana Baratheon were gossiping with their companions.

"Cheer up brother." said a familiar voice behind him.

"Tyrion" muttered Jaime.

"Yes, me. Why are you so glum. You were excited enough when we were on the Kingsroad, why are you wasting yourself away?" said Tyrion, in a sarcastic tone as he sat down on the bench beiside him.

"My sister is why." he glanced at Lord Stark planting a chaste kiss on Cersei's cheek. He felt a cold hand grip his heart. _That whore_. he thought.

Tyrion must have seen that too for he said "You didn't think for a second that Cersei gave birth to all these sweet children without..." Jaime could hardly hear him over his thoughts, he imagined Cersei pinned on the wall while Ned Stark lifted her skirts and thrust inside her while she moaned loudly.

He saw a hand fluttering before his face while Tyrion tried to wake him from his reverie "Dear brother you've flown away."

"What do you want?" asked Jaime angrily between sips.

"You've been awfully somber since we've arrived at Winterfell. Especially since you've seen our sweet sister. Is there something troubling you?"

"No." Jaime rose from the bench. He walked off to go back to his quarters when he bumped into Ned Stark.

"Pardons" said Ned trying to walk around him until Jaime stopped him.

"I hear we might be neighbors soon" said Jaime. "I hope it's true"

"Yes, the king has honored me with his offer."

"I'm sure we'll have a tournament to celebrate the new title, if you accept. Would be good to have you on the field," _I want to gut you for fucking my sister_. "The competition has become a bit stale."_ But i'll give you the chance to fight for your life. _

"I don't fight in tournaments."

"No? Getting a little old for it?" _Are you craven?_

"I don't fight in tournaments, because when i fight a man for real," he glanced to the side, where Cersei was looking at them worryingly. "I don't want him to know what i can do." The last part was nearly a whisper in his ear. This was a jab at him he realized, _he speaks my language. _

"Well said." he finished. As Ned Stark walked past him. Jaime all but shouldered his way out of the Great Hall.

He walked into the yard, grabbed a wooden sword and began cutting and slashing at the dummy. He imagined Ned Stark, Cersei, her children, Tyrion and his father Tywin, Robert and Lyanna. He only stopped when his sword arm ached too much to be used, he lied down on a bench and closed his eyes hoping for dreamless sleep.

He felt a kick to his groin.

"What are you doing?" asked a vaguely familiar voice in an irritated tone.

"Sweet sister." he replied. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. "I've missed you."

"You miss my cunt you mean." replied Cersei. Her green eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He felt a stirring in his loins.

"That hurt." he said casually.

"I must be clear on this though, our relationship is at an end."_ No_. thought Jaime.

"Has your husband laid the sole claim to your cunt?" he asked.

"No, it's my cunt to use as _i_ see fit." she growled in a tone that brooked no arguing.

"A pity, i had half a mind to gut your husband and have you all for myself."

She slapped him.

He looked on astonished as she walked off, her dark silhouette eventually disappeared. He choked back his sobs and blinked away his tears.

He stood up from the bench and climbed the Keep up to his bedchamber. He lit a candle and opened his window and breathed the fresh air. He sat at the edge of his bed as he removed his boots, unlaced his breeches, and lied down in his bed, he stared up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and waited and waited and waited. Sleep did not come.

He remembered the first time he kissed Cersei. They'd been discovered by a servant who reported all she saw to their mother, when she heard, she sent Cersei to another bedchamber at the other side of Casterly Rock and set a guard outside and told them never to do it again or she would tell their lord father. In the end it mattered little, she died a short time later giving birth to Tyrion.

_At least one of us listened_. thought Jaime bitterly. If only she did it sooner rather than later, he had high hopes during the voyage that he would see Cersei again, be together as they were supposed to be. It broke his heart to see her love another man. _The whore, i was a fool to have ever loved her_, maybe she'll hate him like her lord husband does.

He heard Cersei and the Queen's cries of pleasure in the distance.

Jaime Lannister did not sleep that night.

* * *

So, yeah. I still can't manage to make the chapters longer. A pity truly.

As i still haven't decided what will cause the central war (i have a few ideas though.) i'm accepting suggestions through PMs, the best suggestions will be integrated into the plot.

Inspired by the fanfic 'High As Honor', you can post questions in the review panel and i'll answer them in the next update.

Good night y'all.


	6. Eddard II

**Eddard**

* * *

Robert and Ned were sharing stories and memories of their childhood.

"And that one time, where one fool threw his soup at me, and before Jon could so much as fart, there was food flying all over the hall!" Robert and Ned laughed loudly.

"I loved the old man." said Robert solemnly.

"We all did." replied Ned, "tell me how he died."

"In his sleep, of old age to hear some say it." said Robert, "I swear if you saw him at Edric's nameday celebration you could have sworn he would have lived forever, then one day, at the Small Council he complains of stomach pains, crabs inside and something, Pycelle did all he could, but the old man died in his sleep."

"Gods give him rest then." said Ned.

"So have you considered my offer?" he asked.

"I have yet to consider it."

"It matters little, take your time, we'll stay here for a while, look, it seems my children have already become fast friends with yours."

Ned looked over to the table to see Brandon dancing with Cassana and Steffon with Myrcella while Edric, Gerold and Jon watched from the table.

"Gods willing, they'll become friends like you and me." wished Ned.

"Maybe you could foster one," suggested Robert, "Edric's been having a hard time finding his place, you could find one for him."

"I'll have to consult Cersei first on that." said Ned, "Damn, i have to use the privy."

"Maybe you shouldn't eat so much." pointed out Robert.

"Oh don't worry." he kissed Cersei's cheek before walking off to find his quarters when he bumped into Ser Jaime Lannister, Ned tried to walk around him but the Kingslayer reached out a hand to stop him.

"I hear we might be neighbors soon." noted Jaime, "I hope it's true."

Ned stopped and looked at his not-so-dear good-brother, he had two dark circles under his eyes, his hair was tangled and his beard unshaven, he was wearing a golden tunic lined with crimson. All in all, he looked like shit. Ned had the grace not to point it out.

"Yes, the king has honored me with his offer." replied Ned

"I'm sure we'll have a tournament to celebrate the new title, if you accept. Would be good to have you on the field, competition has become a bit stale."

_What is he getting at? _

"I don't fight in tournaments." replied Ned in an amused tone.

"No? Getting a little old for it?" _Not so much._

"I don't fight in tournaments, because when i fight a man for real," he glanced to the side, where Cersei was looking at them worryingly. "I don't want him to know what i can do." The last part was nearly a whisper in his ear.

"Well said." he finished, after a brief silence. As Ned Stark walked past him.

Of all the rooms in the Great Keep, their bedchamber was the hottest, they seldom needed to light a fire as the pipes in the walls circulated hot water from the hot springs like the veins in a man's body circulated the blood.

Ned sat at in a chair on his study as he opened a scroll, scribbled his signature, put it down and leaned back on his chair. He glanced over his shoulder to see the window open and the moon high in the sky.

He looked over to the bed where Cersei lied on her back looking at him, she was dressed in a purple silk nightgown. The sight of her beauty was wondrous, he feasted on her body, her golden hair and the emerald eyes. Despite him he felt his cock stiffen.

"He's made you Hand hasn't he?" she asked. Ned quickly snapped out of it.

"Aye. I have half a mind to refuse him."

"I have half a mind to slap some sense into you." they chuckled together. "You mustn't refuse him, you cannot refuse him." she continued in a sudden serious tone.

"My duties are here in the North, i have no wish to be Robert's Hand."

"He will not understand that, Kings are not like other men. If you refuse him to serve him, he will wonder why, and sooner or later he will begin to suspect that you oppose him, and you do, you hold the last Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne." The last part was a hushed whisper. "Can't you see the danger that would put us in?"

Ned shook his head. "Robert would never harm me or mine, i know the man."

"Robert might not, but there are others who could, the Tyrells are making noise about marrying Margaery to Robert or his son, Steffon." she said.

"That's impossible while Lyanna is queen," the realization came to him. "It can't be."

"You must accept the post, we could protect Robert from the enemies he is blind to."

"Fine. I'll accept his offer." he stood up and sat on the table. "But you will stay here."

"What? No. You'll lie dead in a ditch by the end of the year without me."

"No i won't and besides, Brandon is fourteen, he needs to learn to rule, you'll stay here and help him."

"He already has Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin to help him. I know the political landscape of the south better than you do or ever will."

"The Others take-"

She kissed him.

He kissed her back, she bit his lower lip fiercely, his tongue breaking into her mouth, dueling with her tongue. She tasted of fire, of gold and wine.

He raised her leg up with his arm and pushed her onto the bed.

They broke away, gasping for air. She turned him over, tearing his tunic away before kissing him again wildly. It felt more like fighting a boar than making love. She grasped his neck unrelentingly before he turned her over, swatting away at her hands as she tried to resist.

He tore away the remains of his tunic and breeches and kissed her fiercely, she raked his back while wails of pain escaped him, he leaned back while she grabbed his throat and turned him over once more.

She sank into him, she was hot and wet inside, she swayed her hips back and forth, slowly at first, they both emitted loud moans while she quickened her rhythm.

"_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH_"

He released in her while her moans intensified until she screamed in pleasure.

She dropped on him. Sweating and breathless.

As if on cue they heard Lyanna's cries of pleasure in the other room.

Sleep did not wait long to claim them.

* * *

So, yeah...uh...okay...ahem.

My first M rated scene. Tell me what you think about it. 10 cents to the first to guess the inspiration (It has to do with Renaissance England and a 2nd wife.)

Well it's ASOIAF you should have expected sex and violence and i had the good sense to merge both into one because i'm the author.

There were no questions in the reviews so no answers.

This chapter was longer than most at one thousand and one hundred words which still isn't much considering there's not that much action going on. Maybe i should hire a beta reader.


	7. Tyrion I

**Tyrion**

* * *

Tyrion woke from his slumber.

He was sitting in the Library of Winterfell, on the table was the only intact copy of 'The Art of War'. He had spent the entire night reading it by candlelight. He remembered suddenly. His back ached and his neck was stiff from sleeping in an uncomfortable position.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stoop up, closed the book and straightened his clothes, he was wearing a light grey doublet, and brown leather breeches.

"Chayle, I'm off to break my fast, see that you return the books to the shelves. Be gentle with the Valyrian scrolls, the parchment is very dry, Tsunzu's Art of War is quite rare, and yours is the only full copy i have ever seen." He called to the septon, who was rubbing sleep from his eyes before nodding lightly.

Tyrion waddled down the steps into the courtyard, it was a rather cold morning, the sky was grey, threatening them with another bout of snowfall, when he found Ser Rolland Storm of the Kingsguard guarding the Great Hall. His silver and gold enameled scale armor was majestic, he carried a large round shield on his back and a silver encrusted sword in it's leather sheath.

"Good morning." said Tyrion.

"Good morning, my lord." bowed the knight of the Kingsguard.

"Where is my dear sister?" he asked.

"In the great hall, my lord, breaking her fast with the Queen."

"Ah, " he gave the pox scarred knight a nod and walked briskly towards the hall, humming 'the Rains of Castamere' as he went.

The guards opened the iron-reinforced wooden door to reveal a large hall, a fire was burning in a hearth at the end of the hall, the tables were all strung in the corners, being cleaned by servants except for a single table close to the daïs, where Cersei, Queen Lyanna and Jaime were breaking their fast. It was a rather frugal meal. Bread and butter with some tea and eggs. He notice immediately the contrast between Cersei and Lyanna, where Cersei looked her best, her golden curls tied into a braid that fell over her left shoulder and wore a queenly grey woolen dress inlaid with scrollwork and the grey Lion and Wolf combatant sewed on the front, Lyanna wore a simple blue gown while her hair spilled free.

"Is Lord Eddard still abed?" he asked as he sat himself down uninvited on the table. He looked around and notice Jaime in the corner of the table, around him were at least seven or eight cups of wine, he was wearing a simple brown tunic lined with crimson, his hair was tangled wildly and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

His sister however wore the same expression of faint distaste since the day he was born, "No, he's hunting in the Wolfswood, with dear King Robert." Even in contempt she looked beautiful. He looked off to the corner of the table to see Jaime drinking another cup of wine, already half-drunk.

"Hmmm, i never knew he was a hunter." thought Tyrion aloud.

"There's many things you don't know about Ned." replied Lyanna and Cersei at the same time.

"Hmm, yes. You were rather indiscreet last night. I could barely sleep with all the noise you were making." pointed out Tyrion.

They both blushed.

Jaime looked at his sister fuming, _Well this is rather curious_, thought Tyrion, as Jaime slid closer to Cersei.

"You never did that when we were younger did you?" asked Jaime with an angry tone.

"What are you talking about?" asked Tyrion, surprised. He saw with the corner of his eye Cersei grabbing a horn of ale and Queen Lyanna lifting her eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh yes you didn't know, me and Cersei had a unique r-" Cersei bashed the horn full in Jaime's face, he could see a tooth flying off his mouth and blood spurting.

"Excuse me, i have business to attend to. Your Grace if you'll excuse me." hissed Cersei as she walked briskly off, her grey wool skirts swishing behind as she trotted off to the doors of the Great Hall. Queen Lyanna ran off with her, no doubt looking for a quieter corner to spend their morning.

"What was that about?" asked Tyrion. He looked over the table to see Jaime one the ground groaning in pain. His nose was broken and bloody.

"I'll bring the maester-"

"No don't, i'll go it myself."

"If you say so." said Tyrion in a resigned tone. He watched as Jaime clutched his mouth and walked off in the opposite direction.

Tyrion finished his food and went off in search of Starks. He mused on the incident and Jaime's words as he waddled down Winterfell, his breath dissipating in puffs of steam in front of him.

He found his nephews training in the yard. Brandon, Theon, Steffon and Jon Snow were all sitting on the bench while Edric and Gerold were sparring with wooden swords, visibly none were winning

"Dear nephews."

They all looked at him, Edric seized his chance and bashed Gerold in the back while he was distracted. He fell chest-first into the dirt.

"Uncle Tyrion. 'Tis good to see you." said Brandon, "I hear you'll be journeying to the Wall."

"Aye, your uncle Benjen is returning to the Night's Watch, with Jon in tow."

"I hope you're not thinking of taking the black on us Uncle. I would miss your company sorely in that case." lamented Brandon.

"What, me, celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No i just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."

The band of youths all laughed.

* * *

The day of farewell finally came, the Starks embraced each other, Benjen, Jon Snow and Tyrion journeyed to the Wall, while all the Starks save for Brandon and Theon Greyjoy (who while not a Stark, was the next best thing.) would journey south to King's Landing.

Lyanna embraced Jon Snow and Benjen profusely. _  
_

The sun was rising when they set out.

* * *

**The Authoriate:**

**Kudos to Dillon Baker for guessing the inspiration for last chapter's M scene. It was indeed the raunchy violent scene where Anne Boleyn and Henry Tudor have violent make-up sex, ever since i saw that scene and adopted Cersei/Ned OTP i wanted to have that scene played out between Ned and Cersei. **

**A Guest asked:**

**"As well as Ned being on par was Jaime as a swordsmen what about Ned being more politically minded at well?"**

**Well, Ned is the same as OTL (Our Time Line [Canon]), but Cersei will be his "Lady Macbeth" and his main political muscle.**

**Izzychase: **

**"Or even Stannis and his claim to the throne or Melisandre?"**

**Stannis the Mannis is a dutiful dude, if he knows that the Princes are legitimate he won't press the claim. Though i have plans for Melisandre.**

**Also, the Kingsguard has some OCs and some minor characters in it. Since OTL KG was a farce created by Cersei to make them loyal to her. Lyanna and Robert have no intention of doing such a thing so the KG has 7 good members instead of the 1 good member OTL.**


	8. Eddard III

**Eddard**

* * *

Eddard Stark woke in his tent as the light of dawn creeped through the bushes and trees of the Riverlands.  
His eyes fluttered open, the tent was moderately large, it's canvas lined with grey and white, he lied on a bed of furs and wolf pelts, next to him was Cersei, he realized only then that they were both naked with only their covers were hiding them from the fresh morning air.

He moved closer and slid his fingers across her naked body, from her thigh to her hips, to her shoulders, then he realized she was looking at him over her shoulder, her mesmerizing emerald eyes locked with his grey ones, he leaned closer to kiss her, she gasped as his hand slid inbetween her legs.

"My lord, His Grace requests your presence," announced a guard in Stark colors as he peeked through the tent flap.  
Eddard nearly jumped, "Son of a-", he muttered, he looked at the interruptor trying to stifle his laugh, and told him in a colder-than-usual tone, "Tell His Grace, that i'll be there shortly."

The guard ran off while he rose from the bed and opened his personal chest, he decided to wear a white tunic and a grey surcoat with the Direwolf of Stark sewn on the front with brown breeches and black riding boots. He looked over his shoulder to see Cersei giggling at his frustrated desire while she lifted herself off the bed, her hair gliding gracefully across her shoulders.

Damn the man, can't leave me alone for one hour. Thought Ned as he looked at Cersei, despite himself, he felt his manhood hardening at the sight of her.

He exited the tent a few moments later, when he finished dressing. He saw Alyn had already saddled and readied his favorite horse, he mounted up and found Robert on a big black destrier, the King was wearing a golden tunic, with a black surcoat with the golden crowned stag embroidered on the front. He could see that Robert's beard was already growing back, though it was but a slight stubble at the moment.

"Damn it, Ned," roared Robert as he trotted his horse, his breath steaming in the wind with every breath. "What took you so long?" he asked, Ned could not help but look away.

Behind him Robert threw back his head and laughed, "I see." Robert said. "Come on now, we have matters of state to discuss." He drove his destrier hard, as Ned struggled to catch up.

They stopped as they crested a ridge, from it, the could see across the landscape, rolling hills, the river, water glinting in sunlight light silver, the green forests and wide open golden fields of wheat. They could hear the singing of birds and water collapsing on rock.  
"Gods, it feels good to go out and ride." asked Robert. "I have half a mind to leave them all behind and keep going."

"Would that we could, but were are not the boys we were Robert,"

"You were never the boy you were," Robert grumbled. "More's the pity, and yet there was that one time...that common girl of yours? Becca? The one with the great big tits you could bury your face in!"

"Besse? She was one of yours."

"Besse! Thank the gods for Besse, and her tits." They both laughed at the memory.

"Yours was...Aleena? No, you told me once. Merryl? Your bastard's mother."

Lyanna "Wylla." replied Ned with cool courtesy and gritted teeth.

"That's it. Must have been a rare wench to make Lord Eddard Stark forget his honor, you never told me what she looked like."

"Nor will I."

"We were at war, none of us knew if we were going home again. You're too hard on yourself, always were." said Robert solemnly, "I

swear if i weren't your King you would have hit me already."

"That's the worst thing about your coronation, I'll never get to hit you again."

"Trust me, that's not the worst thing." Robert handed Ned a small parchment. "A rider in the night."

He read it quickly. "Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horse-lord, what of it?!" he asked. "Shall we send her a wedding gift?"

"Aye, a knife, perhaps, a good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it." replied Robert, his voice rising quickly.

"She's little more than a child."

"Soon enough this child will spread her legs and start breeding."

"Tell me were not speaking of this."

"Oh it's unspeakable to you, is it? What her father did to your family, that was unspeakable, what Rhaegar did to my Lyanna! That was unspeakable!" His voice was furious and he was near shouting now. "I'll kill every Targaryen i can get my hands on until they are dead as their dragons and then i'll piss on their graves"

"You can't get your hands on this one can you?" replied Ned, resolved to keep his temper under check.

"This Khal Drogo," Robert's voice was calming down. "They say he has a hundred thousand screamers at his beck and call."

"Even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm. They have no ships, no way to cross the Narrow Sea." said Ned, "He will not cross, Robert, and if by some mischance he does, we'll throw him back into the sea. Once you choose a new Warden of the East-"

The King groaned "For the last time, i won't name the Arryn boy Warden, I know the boy's your nephew, but with Targaryens climbing in bed with Dothraki, I would be mad to rest a quarter of the realm on a sickly child.

Ned was ready for that. "Yet we must still have a Warden of the East. If Robert Arryn will not do, name one of your brothers, Stannis proved himself twice already."

Robert groaned again "We'll speak of this later." He drove his horse forward and started down the hill, leaving Ned alone on the ridge.

* * *

Eddard Stark rode through the gates of King's Landing, sore, tired, hungry and thirsty.

He was dreaming of a long hot bath, a roast fowl and Cersei's arms when the King's Steward came to him, informing him that Grand Maester Pycelle had convened an urgent meeting of the small council. The honor of the Hand's presence was requested as soon as it was convenient. "It will be convenient on the morrow." snapped Ned as he dismounted.

The steward bowed very low "I shall give the councillors your regrets, my lord."

"No damn it." Ned said, it would not do to offend the council before he had even begun. "I will see them. Pray give me a few moments to change into something more presentable."

"Yes, my lord," the steward said. "We have given you Lord Arryn's old chambers in the Tower of the Hand. If it please you, i will arrange for your things to be carried there."

"My thanks," Ned said as he ripped off his riding gloves, and ordered Vayon Poole to oversee the move.

And so it was that Ned walked into the council chambers, in borrowed clothing while Cersei and Vayon Poole organized his household. Cersei had wanted to attend the meeting with him, but after a brief argument, she eventually relented.

The chamber was richly furnished, Myrish carpets lined the floor and tapestries and paintings adorned the walls. Two Sphinxes guarded the door. He crossed the room and found Renly and Littlefinger talking quietly near a screen while Stannis brooded alone in a chair on a table, fumbling with parchments.

"Lord Stark, i see you have arrived safely," Renly said as he broke off his conversation and turned around to face him.

"And you as well," Ned replied, "You must forgive me, but sometime you look the very image of your brother,"

"A poor copy," Renly said with a shrug

"Though much better dressed." quipped Littlefinger, "Lord Renly here spends more on clothing than half the ladies of the court."

It was true enough, Lord Renly was dressed in dark green velvet, with a dozen stags embroidered on his doublet. A cloth of gold half-cape hung lazily over his left shoulder, "There are worse crimes, " said Renly, "The way you dress for one."

Littlefinger ignored the jibe. He eyed Ned with a smile that bordered on insolence though he said nothing. According to the rumors, Littlefinger had a 'special' relationship with the daughters of Hoster Tully, Cersei had warned him that Littlefinger may have some ill intention against Ned for indirectly killing his beloved Cat. Though Ned denied it vehemently.

"If you spent half as much time working as you do buying clothes, Renly, the realm would be duly grateful." said Stannis from his seat at the table.

"Lord Stannis, i trust you are well," he said as he shook his hand.

"Perhaps we might begin soon," the Grand Maester said, hands knitting together atop his broad stomach. "I fear I shall fall asleep if we wait much longer."

"As you will." The king's seat sat empty at the head of the table, the crowned stag of Baratheon embroidered in gold thread on its pillows. Ned took the chair beside it, as the right hand of his king. "My lords," he said formally, "I am sorry to have kept you waiting."

"You are the King's Hand," Varys said. "We serve at your pleasure, Lord Stark."

As he sat he pointed out "We are but six."

Varys said, "Our gallant Ser Barristan rides beside the king as he makes his way through the city, as befits the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"Perhaps we had best wait for Ser Barristan and the king to join us," Ned suggested.

Renly Baratheon laughed aloud. "If we wait for my brother to grace us with his royal presence, it could be a long sit."

"Our good King Robert has many cares," Varys said. "He entrusts some small matters to us, to lighten his load."

"What Lord Varys means to tell us is that Robert has no mind for rulership," Lord Stannis said, "so it fell upon me and Lord Arryn to govern the realm. Though he sent us a royal command from time to time."

Lord Renly drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table. "This morning he commanded me to ride ahead with all haste and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at once. He has an urgent task for us."

Littlefinger smiled and handed the paper to Ned. It bore the royal seal. Ned broke the wax with his thumb and flattened the letter to consider the king's urgent command, reading the words with mounting disbelief. Was there no end to Robert's folly? And to do this in his name, that was salt in the wound. "Gods be good," he swore.

"What Lord Eddard means to say," Lord Renly announced, "is that His Grace instructs us to stage a great tournament in honor of his appointment as the Hand of the King."

"How much?" asked Littlefinger, mildly.

Ned read the answer off the letter. "Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition."

"Ninety thousand gold pieces," Littlefinger sighed. "And we must not neglect the other costs. Robert will want a prodigious feast. That means cooks, carpenters, serving girls, singers, jugglers, fools

"Fools we have in plenty," Lord Renly said.

Grand Maester Pycelle looked to Littlefinger and asked, "Will the treasury bear the expense?"

"What treasury is that?" Littlefinger replied with a twist of his mouth. "Spare me the foolishness, Maester. You know as well as I that the treasury has been empty for years. I shall have to borrow the money. No doubt the Lannisters will be accommodating. We owe Lord Tywin some three million dragons at present, what matter another hundred thousand?"

Ned was stunned. "Are you claiming that the Crown is three million gold pieces in debt?"

"The Crown is more than six million gold pieces in debt, Lord Stark. Your good-father, Lord Tywin, is the biggest part of it, but we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi trading cartels. Of late I've had to turn to the Faith. The High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish fishmonger."  
Ned was aghast. "Aerys Targaryen left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen?"

Littlefinger gave a shrug. "The master of coin finds the money. The king and the Hand spend it."

"I will not believe that Jon Arryn allowed Robert to beggar the realm," Ned said hotly.

Grand Maester Pycelle shook his great bald head, his chains clinking softly. "Lord Arryn was a prudent man, but I fear that His Grace does not always listen to wise counsel."

He heard Lord Stannis grunt from his chair at the foot of the table. "You'll have better luck arguing with a wall than you will have convincing Robert to cancel this mad act. I suggest placing a tax on whorehouses to lighten the load on the treasury but he would not listen to me. Mayhaps you will have better luck."

Littlefinger snorted.

"I will speak with His Grace," Ned said. "About the tax and this tourney is an extravagance the realm cannot afford."

"Speak to him as you will," Lord Renly said, "we had still best make our plans."

"Another day," Ned said. Perhaps too sharply, from the looks they gave him. He would have to remember that he was no longer in Winterfell, where only the king stood higher; here, he was but first among equals. "Forgive me, my lords," he said in a softer tone. "I am tired. Let us call a halt for today and resume when we are fresher." He did not ask for their consent, but stood abruptly, nodded at them all, and made for the door.

* * *

**THE AUTHORIATE**

**""Why would she do that to a bastard? Unless"**  
**I don't know, maybe because bastard or not he is her "nephew". Why wouldn't she embrace him? "**

**Good point. Retconned.**

**"Why would Jon want to join the NightWatch? After all Cersei is more accepting of him than Catelyn was in canon."**

**Jon joins the NW in OTL because he as a bastard, he stands to get nothing of any value, not because Catelyn is intolerant of him. He's a bastard whether his stepmother is Cersei or Catelyn.**

**And as loathsome and opportunistic as the Tyrells are, I can't see them causing trouble on their own. Littlefinger and Varys really have their work cut out for them. Maybe the Martells could kill Robert and/or Lyanna?**

**You'll see soon.**

**Also, if the story still seems copy pasted from OTL, it's because the story hasn't come into it's own yet. Let us welcome Stannis the Mannis to the show, with him we shall have merry times and fun dry humor.**

**You may have noticed that the LF/Ned partnership is not nearly as involved as in Canon, since LF subconsciously blames Ned for Cat's death (thanks KBlack25 for that idea.). **


	9. Cersei II

**Cersei**

* * *

Cersei sat at Ned's right side, they were waiting for Lord Stannis to arrive, she wore a simple black wool gown, embroidered with golden vines that seemed to circulate her bodice, her golden curls tumbled down her bare shoulders. Eddard by contrast wore a grey tunic with a white surcoat, the direwolf of Stark sewn on the chest.

She heard a knock on the door,

"Enter." commanded Ned in the voice of Lord Stark.

The wooden door opened to reveal the man himself, Lord Stannis, he was wearing a simple grey doublet with a golden surcoat. They stood as he walked over to the table. He shook hands with Lord Stark and kissed her knuckles, though more brushing lips than an actual kiss.

"My lord, my lady." said Stannis with his usual cold tone as they sat down. Food was littered all over the table, spiced bacon and salted beef, and a cup of wine for every one.

"Lord Stannis, it is good to see you." welcomed Ned as he offered him a cup of wine. Stannis waved it away with a shake of the head. "You wished to speak to me."

"Yes," growled Stannis, "I came to you because of a certain Janos Slynt." _What's he done now? _

"Jon Arryn and I were investigating some suspicions that Slynt was selling positions and offices, two guards were prepared to testify against him, but, they were found dead a short time later."

"Are you saying they were murdered?" asked Ned.

"I suspect that. Janos Slynt was in Littlefinger's pocket, you see, when we confronted Robert about it, he said 'They all steal, better one we know the next man might be worse. Lord Baelish's words in Robert's mouth."

Ned frowned, Cersei knew that if Janos Slynt were to be executed or otherwise removed from office, they could replace him with someone who would be loyal to her.

"What would have me do?" asked Ned.

"What do we do to criminals?" replied Stannis. Leaving the suggestion hanging in the air.

Ned nodded. Stannis stood and thanked them for his time before leaving the solar. She leaned back, and looked at Ned, he was ruffling his chin with his fingers thoughtfully. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you should either execute him or dismiss him from office and replace him with someone loyal to you. I could draw up a list of possible candidates after the tourney." The tourney, Ned and Stannis had not managed to cancel it, though they had convinced the King to delay it by a week.

Ned nodded and stood up, he paced the solar twice then suddenly stopped and mused aloud, "Littlefinger, hmmm. I wonder what he's up to. I'll need to inspect his account books, the royal debt seems far too high, Robert does not spend that much."

"By all means, inspect." she said in a playful tone, flashing a seductive smile and nibbling on an olive.

He smiled and walked off to their bedchamber, she ordered the servants to clean the table and followed him to bed. She found him sitting in a chair by the hearth. She turned her back to him and closed the door while she slipped off her gown...

* * *

"'It's the Hand's tourney that's the cause of all the trouble, my lords," the Commander of the City Watch complained to the king's council.

"The king's tourney," Ned corrected, wincing. "I assure you, the Hand wants no part of it."

"Call it what you will, my lord. Knights have been arriving from all over the realm, and for every knight we get two freeriders, three craftsmen, six men-at -arms, a dozen merchants, two dozen whores, and more thieves than I dare guess. This cursed heat had half the city in a fever to start, and now with all these visitors . . . last night we had a drowning, a tavern riot, three knife fights, a rape, two fires, robberies beyond count, and a drunken horse race down the Street of the Sisters. The night before a woman's head was found in the Great Sept, floating in the rainbow pool. No one seems to know how it got there or who it belongs to."

"How dreadful," Varys said with a shudder.

Lord Renly Baratheon was less sympathetic. "If you cannot keep the king's peace, Janos, perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can."

"I agree," thundered Stannis while slamming his fist on the table and glaring at Janos Slynt.

"Well there's a wonder." quipped Renly.

Ned ignored the jibe and rose slowly from his chair before Slynt could protest. "Janos Slynt, in the name of our King Robert, I charge you with corruption, murder and treason." He nodded at the two guards who swiftly took Janos Slynt by the arms and dragged him off while he screamed "WHAT? I am no traitor! Lies! All lies!"

"What was that about?" asked Renly, surprised. Though no one answered. Littlefinger looked awfully dismayed. _Hadn't been expecting your stooge to get arrested did you? _Thought Cersei with satisfaction. _Don't worry, you'll join him soon enough. _Though Ned had been opposed to making such an arrest without first acquiring proof, Cersei had convinced him to hold him in a cell until a trial could be arranged. Or not. Prison cells weren't the most healthy of places. Someone could catch a sickness and die.

When the Commander had been dragged off, Eddard Stark sat down and turned to the rest of the council. "The sooner this folly is done with, the better I shall like it."

"The realm prospers from such events, my lord," Grand Maester Pycelle said. "They bring the great the chance of glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes."

"And put coins in many a pocket," Littlefinger added. "Every inn in the city is full, and the whores are walking bowlegged and jingling with each step."

_Your pockets you mean_, though Cersei.

"Lord Stannis, you had mentioned putting a tax on brothels, i have seen to it with the King, Lord Baelish, you will see to it that it is implemented."

Before he could protest, Ned rose from his seat and took Cersei's hand and they exited the Council Chamber together. Lord Stannis followed close behind.

"I trust you will be able to find proof of these charges, my lord?" said Ned with a cold tone to hide his distaste in the action.

"Have no doubt about it, if Lord Baelish doesn't interfere, Janos Slynt's head will roll by the end of this moon's turn." said Stannis.

"The quicker the better," added Cersei. As long as Janos Slynt was in Littlefinger's pocket, the City Watch could be used against her and Ned. She was pondering candidates already, Jory Cassel or Ser Jacelyn Bywater would do.

Cersei rode to the Hand's tourney with Myrcella, Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games.

"It is better than the songs," whispered Myrcella from her seat, Cersei and Ned were seated beside the King and Queen on the royal stand. Cersei was dressed magnificently, she wore an elaborate cloth-of-gold dress with the Lion and Wolf combatant sewn on the chest and crimson borders on her sleeves and bodice, her golden curls were arranged in half a dozen braids that tumbled down her back and shoulders. She looked more regal than the Queen herself, who wore a blue gown adorned with Winter roses. Eddard was wearing his classic attire, a grey doublet and brown breeches, he looked very displeased. The King himself was wearing a golden surcoat with the black crowned stag, a crown of antlers on his head.

They watched hundreds of jousters ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. The seven knights of the Kingsguard took the field, all but Jaime in scaled armor the color of milk, their cloaks as white as freshfallen snow. Ser Jaime wore the white cloak as well, but beneath it he was shining gold from head to foot, with a lion's head helm and a golden sword. Cersei remembered Lord Yohn Royce, who had guested at Winterfell two years before. He was resplendent in bronze armor carved with 'magic runes', Cersei snorted at the idea that they protected him from grumkins and snarks.

Other riders Cersei did not know; hedge knights from the Fingers and Highgarden and the mountains of Dorne, unsung freeriders and new-made squires, the younger sons of high lords and the heirs of lesser houses. Younger men, most had done no great deeds as yet. Ser Balon Swann. Lord Bryce Caron of the Marches. Bronze Yohn's heir, Ser Andar Royce, and his younger brother Ser Robar, their silvered steel plate filigreed in bronze with the same ancient runes that warded their father. The twins Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, whose shields displayed the grape cluster sigil of the Redwynes, burgundy on blue. Patrek Mallister, Lord Jason's son. Six Freys of the Crossing: Ser Jared, Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell, Ser Emmon, Ser Theo, Ser Perwyn, sons and grandsons of old Lord Walder Frey, and his bastard son Martyn Rivers as well. Jalabhar Xho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape of green and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night, young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold and his black shield slashed by lightning. The Hound entered the lists as well, and so too the king's brother, handsome L ord Renly of Storm's End. Jory, Alyn, and Harwin rode for Winterfell and the north. Jory's armor was blue-grey plate without device or ornament, and a thin grey cloak hung from his shoulders like a soiled rag. Yet he acquitted himself well, unhorsing Horas Redwyne in his first joust and one of the Freys in his second. In his third match, he rode three passes at a freerider named Lothor Brune whose armor was as drab as his own. Neither man lost his seat, but Brune's lance was steadier and his blows better placed, and the king gave him the victory. Alyn and Harwin fared less well; Harwin was unhorsed in his first tilt by Ser Meryn of the Kingsguard, while Alyn fell to Ser Balon Swann.

The Kingslayer rode brilliantly. He overthrew Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings, and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy, who had won his first two tilts against men thirty and forty years his junior. Cersei had convinced Ned to let their son Gerold squire for Barristan, that he may one day fulfill his dream of becoming a Kingsguard by learning from the finest of them.

Lord Renly fell to the Hound. Renly was unhorsed so violently that he seemed to fly backward off his charger, legs in the air. His head hit the ground with an audible crack that made the crowd gasp, but it was just the golden antler on his helm. One of the tines had snapped off beneath him. When Lord Renly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for King Robert's handsome young brother was a great favorite. He handed the broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. The Hound snorted and tossed the broken antler into the crowd, where the commons began to punch and claw over the little bit of gold, until Lord Renly walked out among them and restored the peace.

Later a hedge knight in a checkered cloak disgraced himself by killing Beric Dondarrion's horse, and was declared forfeit. Lord Beric shifted his saddle to a new mount, only to be knocked right off it by Thoros of Myr. Ser Aron Santagar and Lothor Brune tilted thrice without result; Ser Aron fell afterward to Lord Jason Mallister, and Brune to Yohn Royce's younger son, Robar.

In the end it came down to four; the Hound, Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, Ser Loras Tyrell, the youth they called the Knight of Flowers. And a mystery knight, who the attendants had dubbed Blood Raven, his plate armor was the color of bleached bone, his shield and crimson surcoat adorned with a black raven, it's wings spread wide and a drop of blood on it's chest.

Ser Loras was the youngest son of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. His plate was intricately fashioned and enameled as a bouquet of a thousand different flowers, and his snow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses. After each victory, Ser Loras would remove his helm and ride slowly round the fence, and finally pluck a single white rose from the blanket and toss it to some fair maiden in the crowd. While Cersei was no maiden she found herself the recipient of one such white rose.

His last match of the day was against the younger Royce. Ser Robar's ancestral runes proved small protection as Ser Loras split his shield and drove him from his saddle to crash with an awful clangor in the dirt. Robar lay moaning as the victor made his circuit of the field. Finally they called for a litter and carried him off to his tent, dazed and unmoving.

To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for Myrcella was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Myrcella took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off.

Cersei cursed him silently, Myrcella was too in the clouds and naïve with her songs and stories, she didn't need the most handsome knight in Westeros giving her flowers.

By then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day's jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread.

* * *

The next morning Cersei walked with Ned to the jousting field. They had promised to watch the final tilts with Myrcella; Septa Mordane was ill today, and their daughter was determined not to miss the end of the jousting. They shouldered their way to where their daughter was seated and found her as the horns blew for the day's first joust. Myrcella was so engrossed she scarcely seemed to notice their arrival. Sandor Clegane was the first rider to appear. He wore an olive-green cloak over his soot-grey armor. That, and his hound's-head helm, were his only concession to ornament.

"A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer," Littlefinger announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant blood bay destrier. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ringmail, and Jaime glittered from head to heel. Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles. "Done," Lord Renly shouted back. "The Hound has a hungry look about him this morning."

"Even hungry dogs know better than to bite the hand that feeds them," Littlefinger called dryly.

Sandor Clegane dropped his visor with an audible clang and took up his position. Ser Jaime tossed a kiss to some woman in the commons, gently lowered his visor, and rode to the end of the lists. Both men couched their lances.

The hastily erected gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. The Hound leaned forward as he rode, his lance rock steady, but Jaime shifted his seat deftly in the instant before impact. Clegane's point was turned harmlessly against the golden shield with the lion blazon, while his own hit square. Wood shattered, and the Hound reeled, fighting to keep his seat. Myrcella gasped. A ragged cheer went up from the commons. "I wonder how I ought spend your money," Littlefinger called down to Lord Renly. The Hound just managed to stay in his saddle. He jerked his mount around hard and rode back to the lists for the second pass. Jaime Lannister tossed down his broken lance and snatched up a fresh one, jesting with his squire. The Hound spurred forward at a hard gallop. Lannister rode to meet him. This time, when Jaime shifted his seat, Sandor Clegane shifted with him. Both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters had settled, a riderless blood bay was trotting off in search of grass while Ser Jaime Lannister rolled in the dirt, golden and dented.

Myrcella said, "I knew the Hound would win."

Littlefinger overheard. "If you know who's going to win the second match, speak up now before Lord Renly plucks me clean," he called to her. Cersei smiled.

"A pity the Imp is not here with us," Lord Renly said. "I should have won twice as much."

Jaime Lannister was back on his feet, but his ornate lion helmet had been twisted around and dented in his fall, and now he could not get it off. The commons were hooting and pointing, the lords and ladies were trying to stifle their chuckles, and failing, and over it all Cersei could hear King Robert laughing, louder than anyone. Finally they had to lead the Lion of Lannister off to a blacksmith, blind and stumbling.

By then the mystery knight 'Blood Raven' was in position at the end of the lists. When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Myrcella's fervent whisper, "Oh, he's so beautiful." Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Cersei that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy's shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape. His courser was as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey mare, built for speed. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer.

The Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. Blood Raven was ready by that time on the other end of the lists, his lanced locked tightly under his arm.

And suddenly it began. Blood Raven's gelding broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward, while the mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk.

"Ser Loras has forgotten his visor." murmured Ned at her side, already whispers were plaguing the crowds. Indeed, Ser Loras' face was bare for all to see.

Cersei noticed that Blood Raven's lance was flowing upwards...

And then it happened, a crash like thunder split the clouds, a gasp went up from a thousand throats.

A riderless mare was riding off while Ser Loras was lying in the dirt, his face bloody, a small wooden splinter in his left eye and another on his cheek, his face was a ruin, like an talon had clawed him. Lord Renly ran like a wild beast towards him. The entire crowd was standing, as was Cersei. Myrcella was sobbing on Ned's shoulder.

Blood Raven seemed unfazed, he rode in triumph to the end of the lists and discarded his broken lance for a new one. The crowds cheered wildly. Ser Loras's unconscious body was carried off in a litter, accompanied by Lord Renly.

As Sandor Clegane readied himself at the other end of the lists, so too was Blood Raven. They looked at each other like a lion looks at a prey, only Cersei did not know which was the lion and which was the prey.

The trumpets sounded and the joust began, hooves thundered on the dirt, their lances couched, and it happened...

A crack of wood.

The whine of a horse.

The sound of metal on dirt.

The crowd went mad.

Blood Raven's horse was down, it's rider's leg caught under it, Blood Raven's helmet fell off, revealing a face she knew all too well...

"Gerold!" she screamed.

She ran, nearly tripping over the fence while Ned tried desperately to follow. She kneeled beside him and shouted for help. Robert lifted the horse like a feather while Ned lifted an unconsious Gerold.

Only then she realized she was crying hysterically.

* * *

The Authoriate:

The longest chapter yet.

The Q&A:

___Q: If Robert as you said it isn't whoring and drinking around because he is happy with Lyanna why is the crown still in debt with the Iron Bank?_

I answered that in this chapter i think.

_Q: How would there be a war as there are no illigit children of royal blood? -ChairmanJeong_

A: Have you no patience, child? This chapter contains the spark of the war.

_Q: what happened to catelyn ? -ladybluerose21 _

The prologue already answered that question, she dies in childbirth, to a baby that dies a fortnight later.

10 cents to the one who guesses the inspiration for the accident and 'Blood Raven'.


	10. Eddard IV

**Eddard**

* * *

Cersei looked a proper mess, her golden curls were tangled and her eyes were red and wet with tears. She was sitting on a chair on Gerold's bedside, who was still sleeping even after two days. Grand Maester Pycelle assured them that his broken leg was not fatal, and that he would wake up soon enough, though he would be bedridden for a fortnight, and will need to walk with cane for another month. Cersei was mad with grief and worry and would not leave his bedside for any reason. She had expressed the desire to hang Sandor Clegane, as Robert had hanged his brother Gregor Clegane, Ned had remembered at the time, Lyanna would not marry Robert until he had punished Gregor Clegane, Amory Lorch and the rest of the band. Though Tywin Lannister had been up in arms about it. Jon Arryn had managed to appease him, by securing a good match for Cersei to the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, as well as monetary compensation.

Ned scanned the room from his seat at the window, Gerold was sleeping on a large canopied bed, his right leg place on a mountain of pillows and encased in a plaster. His direwolf, 'Summer' lying beside him on the bed. His seat by the window offered an astounding view of King's Landing, from the courtyard of the Tower of the Hand to the walls of the city and the Kingswood beyond.

"If he doesn't wake soon, you'll follow him to the grave." he remembered Cersei saying to Pycelle. Though admittedly, Pycelle was a Lannister agent, Cersei was a Lannister by birth and the Grand Maester obeyed her loyally.

The door opened, revealing Ser Jaime, dressed in a golden doublet and brown breeches, the white cape of the Kingsguard hung over his left shoulder. Eddard's right hand flew immediately to the hilt of his longsword at his left hip.

Ser Jaime raised his hands diplomatically and said in an apologetic tone. "It's alright, Lord Stark, whatever he is, the boy's still my nephew."

Eddard loosened his grip on his sword and nodded. Ser Jaime walked over to Gerold bedside, Cersei visibly glaring at him with green fury. He took Gerold's hand in his and wished for his quick recovery. He then let go and walked off, stopping at the door and glancing at Gerold before leaving.

Ned sat there for the rest of the evening until the sun set on the horizon. He moved closer to Cersei, taking her hands in his and whispering to her:

"You have to sleep, don't worry he'll be here when you return,"

She shook her head, "No, what if he- what if he-"

"Shhh," he soothed her while brushing her cheek with his right hand and turning her chin with his finger, "Don't worry, he'll still be here. He won't die."

She looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, they were full of pain, grief and sorrow, she wished no more than to go and rest but she feared that he might die if she isn't there for him. They were full of tears too.

He hugged her and let her sob on his shoulder while running his hand on her back, comforting her as best he could.

When she was finished weeping, she pulled back and stared right into his grey eyes, she tilted her head slightly and kissed him, she put all her anger, pain and grief in that kiss, as if she could be rid of all of it by siphoning it to him.

He kissed her back, let her tongue through his lips, playfully wrestling with her in his mouth.

His hands instinctively went to her waist while she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. She gasped for breath on his mouth before kissing him again with renewed fury. Her hands groped his hair, he moaned against her mouth while her fingernails raked his scalp and his hands ran under her gown.

He lifted her off the chair and all but slammed her against the wall, his hands lifting her skirts and caressing her inner thighs, he made quick work of her small clothes and she gasped when he put his finger inside her.

She unlaced his breeches as quickly as she could while he ripped her gown clean off, the tear was so loud he feared the whole castle would hear.

Her breasts spilled free, he took one of her nipples in his mouth, it was stiff and hard already, she moaned as he sucked on them. Her legs wrapped around his waist and guided him insider her.

They both gasped when he entered her, each thrust earned him another moan, she bit his shoulder to stifle her cries as her whole body shuddered and heaved. It was not long before he spilled his seed inside her.

"Ned." whispered Cersei into his ear as she collapsed against him, he realised she was asleep, he covered her with his cloak and carried her off the her bedchamber where he deposited her on the bed and left her to rest.

* * *

The next morning he visited the Tourney grounds, he arrived there dressed in a grey tunic with a white surcoat, a grey wolf sewn on his chest, black breeches and grey boots.

He found Ser Loras' tent near the riverside, Ser Barristan was guarding it, he saw, dressed in the armor of the Kingsguard, he looked magnificent.

"Lord Stark." bowed Ser Barristan.

"Ser Barristan." replied Ned in turn. They shook hands.

"How's the boy?" asked the old knight.

"Recovering, though still asleep." answered Ned. Ser Barristan frowned and hung his head. "It wasn't your fault."

The old knight shook his head and said "No but it was, when i told him about the tourney of Blackhaven, he looked so excited..." he trailed off.

Ned put a hand on his shoulder. He entered the tent and found Ser Loras lying in a bed of furs, asleep, a blindfold covered his eyes, a dozen wounds lined his face where Gerold's lance has splintered, women will certainly not pursue him with the same fervor as before, Ned knew, half-blind and scarred beyond recognition. Beside Ser Loras, Lord Renly was kneeling, his hands clasped together as if in prayer, his eyes were red and his face puffy. _So the rumors are true, _Ned thought. Renly glanced at him briefly, a flash of anger passed his face before his expression softened.

Ned asked, "How does he fare?"

Lord Renly swallowed loudly, and answered in a hoarse voice, "He'll live, though he will never be able to see with his left eye again. The maester keeps him asleep with milk of the poppy and dreamwine, otherwise the pain is too much to bear."

Ned nodded and exited the tent, he found Ser Barristan still at his post, they both nodded at each other, Ned went off in search of Robert.

He found Lyanna instead at the lists riding a Dornish sand steed, the hooves throwing up dust as she went, behind her Robert was desperately trying to catch up on his grey stallion, Lyanna stopped when she noticed Ned approach, she dismounted and walked towards him, steed following behind her, her dark hair blowing in the wind.

"Ned!" she hugged him while Robert arrived behind them. He dismounted swiftly and hugged him too.

"Sorry to hear about your boy," said Robert solemnly. "How does he fare?"

"Still asleep," answered Ned, "He won't be able to walk for a fortnight even if he does wake. And even then he'll need a cane for a while before he can walk properly."

"He rides better than most that's for sure." said Lyanna, "Dumped the Knight of Flowers on his rump, magnificent show. Speaking of which, what does Mace Tyrell think of the 'incident'?"

"He's up in arms about it. Though Ser Loras isn't dead, he'll be half-blind, his jousting days are done."

They broke their fast together on fresh bread and boiled goose eggs and fish fried up with onions and bacon, at a trestle table by the river's edge. Before long they were reminiscing about their younger years and exchanging gossip like fishwives.

"I hear Lord Tywin is finally going to officially proclaim an heir." said Lyanna as she nibbled on a cut of cheese. "Who do you think it'll be?"

"Brandon that's for sure," answered Robert, "his sons are either dwarves or in the Kingsguard, the only one with his right in his shoulders is your eldest son, Ned."

Ned pondered the consequences, if Brandon is named heir to Casterly Rock and Wardenship of the West, he would be Lord of Winterfell AND Casterly Rock, and Wardon of both West and North, the other Houses would not be happy about having so much power in the hands of a single man, the Tyrells are already quite discontent with the tourney incident.

He checked on Gerold one last time before going to sleep.

* * *

"The whore is pregnant!" The king's fist slammed down on the council table loud as a thunderclap. "I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you'll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead."

"Robert, do you even hear what you're saying?" shouted Lyanna. "You would murder children? Are you so craven that you fear a child in his mother's womb? What would you think if someone were to plot your death, or mine? Or our children's?!"

Robert's face turned into one of shame, he hated Targaryens that was true, but he would never displease his beloved Queen.

"This is not the same. If she give births to a son-"

"The Narrow Sea still lies between us, i'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water!" argued Lyanna.

"Besides, there are no ships enough in all the Free Cities to carry forty thousand Dothraki, riders and horses both. If they try, our fleet will intercept them, if they land, we can destroy them piecemeal." said Stannis, in his ever so cold tone. Ned welcomed his intervention eagerly.

Robert clenched his teeth and buried his head in his hands. "Fine!" he bellowed. "But if they land and kill us all, let it be on your heads!" Robert stood up abruptly and stormed out of the Small Council chambers.

A sense of relief washed over Ned as he slumped back into his chair.

* * *

The Authoriate

Lets all salute Vasu05 for discovering the inspiration for yesterday's incident, indeed, Ser Loras eating a lance was inspired by Henry VIII doing the same in The Tudors. The blinding part was completely original. So no, it's not inspired by the Willas/Oberyn accident.

Also to Ichko, Blood Raven was indeed a reference to Warhammer 40k, specifically, the Bloody Magpies, also known as the Blood Raven Chapter, of the Spehs Mehreens. The clues were rather obvious, a black raven with a drop of blood is the sigil of Gerold and the Blood Raven Space Marines.

Updates will come slower now, school getting back on track'n'shit.

Good day to y'all.


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